


Freedom Run

by Lobotomite



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Canon Divergence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, set when Aaron is about to leave to stay with Ed, very vague references to canon csa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 02:30:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11957853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lobotomite/pseuds/Lobotomite
Summary: Aaron can't do this anymore. He can't stay here anymore, trapped by his past. He needs to get out.





	Freedom Run

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mittamoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mittamoo/gifts).



He doesn't feel well.

He hasn't felt well since the sight of Gordon back in his life had hit him like a sucker punch to the gut, but today he really, really doesn't. He just has to get through today, though, and then he's out of this _fucking_ village, away from his – his dad, from his mum, from Paddy. From everyone who claims to love him and then stabs the knife in anyway.

He's trying to at least get some work done, he is – he knows he's leaving Adam in the lurch. It's just that he can barely focus his eyes, let alone get anything done. He rubs tiredly at his eyes, taking a twisted sense of satisfaction from the way his chest stings whenever he moves, the way his wrist throbs. Is it healthy? No. He knows it's not. Doesn't stop it being satisfying, though.

_Just a few more hours_ , he assures himself, letting his head tip forward so that his forehead is resting against the book open in front of him. Just a few more hours, and then he's away from all of this. It wont make the betrayals hurt less, but at least he won't be staring them in the face any longer.

_Mum'll be glad to see the back of me,_ he thinks bitterly, brow furrowing as he scowls down at the table. _Give her more time to play happy families._ He wonders what she would do, if she knew what he was really like. If Aaron looked her in the eye and told her what his sorry excuse for a father had done. Not that he ever would; he'll say it out loud when hell freezes over, and there's even less chance of him burdening his mum with something that can't be changed, no matter how upset he is with her right now for not taking his word for it.

It doesn't stop him dreaming about it, though. Dreaming about choking it out through tears, about screaming it at her, about all the ways her face could twist in disgust or disbelief or shutter in disinterest, dreaming about begging and pleading for her to make him leave, to make him feel safe again, always, always _screaming_ until he jolts awake with an aching throat and prays he hasn't been actually making any noise.

Not anymore, though. He's going to get out, get some space and spend some time with someone who's removed from all of this bullshit and who he trusts, someone who he has a shaky history with because of bad timing and mutual fuck ups instead of malice.

_Fuck this,_ he thinks, shoving his chair out and standing up. He feels a bit shaky on his feet, almost like he's had a bit much to drink, but he soldiers on, grabbing his keys and heading for the door. He doesn't manage to open it, though – he just reaches it when it swings open by itself, disturbing his already shaky footing and tending him toppling to the floor with a grunt.

"Fuck, Aaron, sorry, mate, I didn't see you there – y'alright?" Adam is leaning down, reaching out to offer a hand that Aaron bats aside, ignoring Adam's taken aback face as he levers himself upright.

"M'fine," he says sharply, furious at the way his head is spinning and that he's obviously wobbly once he gets to his feet, trying to storm out the door and having to catch himself on the door frame.

"Aaron, are you okay? Where're you going?" He hates that Adam sounds genuinely concerned, hates Adam irrationally for not just letting Aaron get the fuck out of here, and forces himself down the stairs, head spinning. He makes it to the car, though he's not entirely sure how; his vision is starting to swim, Adam's protests are muffled and sound far away, and he knows he probably shouldn't be getting in a car but he feels panicked, trapped, he just needs to get _out_ , but his hands are trembling and refusing to find the lock. He has to lean on the car, efforts at unlocking it turning half-hearted and even more ineffectual, and he's vaguely aware of Adam hovering over him, his voice muffled, his hands gently grabbing Aaron's and pulling them away from the car, then his legs refuse to support him any longer and his vision goes black as he slides to the floor.

* * *

He drifts in and out of consciousness, although that's a generous term for it; the demons in his mind meld with the blur of passing hills and roads, his father screaming at him blends with Adam's high pitched, wild pleading, he's floating and he's drowning, _come on Aaron please_ _ **you need to learn your goddamn lesson**_ _he's your father why can't you just make an effort why can't you just be happy for us_ louder and louder and louder until it reaches a crescendo of blurred noises – and then quiet. Everything goes black. And the last halfway coherent thought he has is to pray that this is finally the end of it.

* * *

He feels infinitely more coherent when he wakes up than he has in the last week – the last month, even. But god, does he feel tired – exhausted. His first instinct is to keep his eyes closed and try and go back to sleep, sod work - and then the noises around him permeate his consciousness and he realises that he's definitely not in his own bed. He forces his eyes open, vague memories of earlier today (yesterday? Days ago? He has no idea) making him feel an awful mixture of guilt and embarrassment. He can tell there's someone next to him so he turns his head, expecting to see Adam, only to be met with the wet eyes of his mother.

"Aaron," she gasps, tears welling up in her red eyes and spilling down her cheeks. "Aaron, oh, god, Aaron, you're awake." She reaches for him, stroking a hand softly over his hair, the other hovering over his face. "Baby, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she sobs, and Aaron can't stop his lip trembling, can't stop the tears starting to drip down his own face. "Aaron, this is... this is because of your dad, isn't it?" she asks, voice shaking like she already knows the answer and doesn't like it, and Aaron briefly follows her gaze to his bandaged wrist.

He doesn't answer, the urge to shove her nose in it borne by the anger and hurt at her betrayal vanished and replaced with deep seated exhaustion, but she obviously reads the answer on his face.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers, still stroking his hair. "I thought – I thought, if you'd forgiven _me_ , then... I thought we could finally be a family again," she chokes out, and Aaron has to close his eyes, breathing coming hitched, choked sobs. She leans over him, kisses his forehead, pressing her face against his in a hug that's as awkward as it is soothing.

"I messed up big time, didn't I," she murmurs into his ear with what could pass for a self depreciating laugh if he was being generous, and all Aaron can do is sob, greedily drinking in his mum's touch and love. "I've learnt my lesson, baby, I swear," she says softly, pulling back and cupping his face with one hand. "Me and you, okay?"

Maybe he's being naive. Maybe it's because he's beyond exhausted, his arm aching, and he just so desperately wants it to be true. But he believes her, this time, and nods, pressing his face into her neck when she leans down for another desperate hug.

"I love you, Aaron," she says into his hair. "So much."

"I love you too," he chokes out through his tears.

Maybe there's a possibility things will work out, after all.


End file.
